


There's Nothing I Can Do (I Only Wanna Be With You)

by chaoticallyyours



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Blind Date, Exasperated Harry, Friends to Lovers, I may mention that fizzy has a gf and its harry's fault, Louis swears a lot but like what else is new, M/M, Matchmaker Louis, and Zayn who takes none of Louis' shit, established ziam, mentions of oc's but like no one ever shows up in fic, room mates, these tags are a fucking disaster but so am I so its cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 16:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17328521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticallyyours/pseuds/chaoticallyyours
Summary: Roommates Harry and Louis both consider themselves matchmakers. Louis' latest crusade is finding the perfect match for Harry, despite the admittedly disastrous results. With just a little bit of help from their friends and a lot of whining, Louis realizes that the best match for Harry might just be the person already sharing his flat.OR: Louis is a dumb gay who doesn't realize he's in love with his best friend. Until he does.





	There's Nothing I Can Do (I Only Wanna Be With You)

**Author's Note:**

> So many many thanks and all of my love to [Caroline](https://prncelouie.tumblr.com), [Tabby](https://suddenclarityharry.tumblr.com), and [Jill](https://truly-madly-larrie.tumblr.com) for constantly holding my hand through this fic, and for cheerleading me, and loving me even in those times when all I know how to do is be a brat. I am lucky to have all of you. 
> 
> Jenn, as usual, you are the real MVP for never making me actually fix my own terrible grammar. 
> 
> I know nothing and no one and I don't own anything but the laptop I'm writing this on. Please don't sue me. 
> 
> Title is from Only Wanna Be With You by Hootie and the Blowfish.

Louis is just gone, his whole body floating away on the tides of sleep when a key jangling in the lock shakes him awake. He’d be angry if he didn't know it was Harry, there had been a grizzly bear and a sword dancing on the edges of his consciousness and he’s sure it would’ve been an _epic_ dream.

“Mmmpfh. Hazza?” Louis mumbles over his shoulder, rubbing at his tired eyes and trying to unwind himself from the cocoon of blankets he’d swaddled himself in. 

“’s me, Lou. I’m home.” Harry says, and the sudden disappearance of the click clacking of Harry’s heeled boots on the kitchen tile tells Louis he’s kicked off his shoes.

“How was it?” Lou asks, straightening just enough on the couch that there’s room for Harry to squeeze in. When Harry rounds the corner into the living room a minute later, the buttery smell of popcorn trails behind him, making Louis’ stomach growl in appreciation. He may have forgotten dinner. Sue him.

“Lou, you know I love you right?” Harry asks, plopping down so haphazardly that a few pieces of popcorn fly out of the bowl and settle themselves in the folds of Harry’s button down. Louis picks one off and pops it in his mouth with a grin.

“Yes?”

“And you know you’re my very best friend right?” Harry continues, wiggling and prodding until he’s all but lying down with his feet thrown over the far arm of the couch and his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“I…..have heard that. Somewhere. Maybe.” Louis allows, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his resolve to be just a little bit difficult.

“Okay. Then I _think_ I’m safe to tell you- that date _sucked.”_ Harry says, voice mumbled just slightly by the handful of popcorn he’d just shoved in his mouth.

“What? Sky was totally into you _and--”_ Louis protests, disappointment rising in his belly like soda fizz. “--he’s attractive.”

“Lou, he’s handsy, and he’s _boring._ You sent me on a date with someone whose personality is the equivalent of cardboard. _Wet._ Cardboard.” Harry says, doing his level best to keep the smirk at Louis’ disappointed pout at bay and to his credit, mostly succeeding.

“Fuck you, Haz. Don’t laugh at me.” Louis snaps, shoving his hand into the popcorn bowl with an annoyed huff. “I’m a _great_ matchmaker. What about Liam and Zayn? I set them up and they’re practically fucking married.”

“Lou, _we_ set them up. You and me. As in. The plural. And besides.--” Harry shrugs, poking at Louis’ nose with very little coordination and buttery fingers. “--I’m pretty sure they’re just soulmates. It would’ve happened eventually.”

“No, it wouldn’t have.” Louis argues, but it’s a half hearted thing at best. He knows Harry’s right. Liam and Zayn are two sides to the same coin and as loathe as Louis is to say it, they would’ve found one another with or without he and Harry meddling.

The look on Harry’s face is enough to make Louis wanna throw something.

“Stop looking at me like that!” He finally yells, rolling his eyes and shoving at Harry’s shoulder with something like a growl.  

“Stop looking at you like what?” Harry asks, feigning innocence as he tosses popcorn kernels in the air and misses all but one of them on their way back down.

“Like… I don’t _know._ Like you can’t decide if you wanna wrap me in bubble wrap and keep me on a shelf somewhere or hug me _._ It’s disturbing. _”_  
  
Harry looks at him in silence for a full three seconds before the giggling starts, and from there it grows into a full blown laugh that Louis can’t _help_ but be swept up in.  
  
_“Stop laughing.”_ Louis demands, annoyed because he’s laughing himself now and his ribs hurt and it’s not _funny._  
  
“Sorry, Lou, oh--” Harry gasps, trying to reign himself in again. “Your face though, you should have seen it. You looked like a disgruntled kitten.”

“Shut _up._ I am very serious, and quite frightening.”

_“_ Sure you are.” 

“Will it, hey-” Harry calls at Louis’ back as he stands up and starts to walk away. “Will it help if I say I’ll let you try again? Lou, come on.”  
  
The slamming of his bedroom door is all the response that Louis gives him.

\----  
  
Breakfast at the little hole in the wall coffee shop down the street from their flat is the only thing that could possibly drag Louis out of bed at 7:30 on a Sunday morning. Regardless, he doesn’t bother dressing in anything but his rattiest joggers, and even when Harry holds the door open for him and the sweet smell of freshly baked pastries hits him all at once, he’s still grumbling softly about the ungodly hour under his breath.

“So I was thinking,” Louis starts after they’ve made their way through the queue. They sit at their usual table by the window and for a moment, all is quiet as they soak in the morning sunshine.

“That usually means I’m about to be in trouble.” Harry finally says ripping the top off his muffin and blowing on his coffee. Louis fixes him with a look that _definitely_ heralds nothing good and Harry hides his smile behind the rim of his still steaming mug.

“Listen here, Curls. I’ve had _just about_ enough of your attitude lately. I’d like to remind you that this matchmaking thing is _entirely_ for your benefit.”

“Fine okay, sorry. I’ll behave. Out with it then, what are you thinking about?” Harry says, and it’s not quite apologetic enough for Louis’ taste but whatever, he’ll take it.

“I was _thinking_ about who to set you up with next. There’s this guy that… what?” Louis asks, huffing a huge sigh at the sight of Harry, who’s looking at him with that _look_ again.

“Nothing, just. Where do you even meet these people?” Harry asks, popping the last of the bottom of the muffin into his mouth in one go before chasing it down with a huge gulp of coffee.

“That’s what you’re worried about? Really?” Louis asks, and honestly, if he didn’t love Harry so much he’d kill him. Possibly right here. In this coffee shop. With what’s left of his scone. “Where I _meet_ people? I’m not setting you up with an axe murderer if that’s what you’re worried about.  
  
“Well I figured _that much.”_ Harry says with a roll of his eyes that all at once makes Louis want to fight and drops something heavy right in the pit of his stomach that he doesn’t want to spend too much time prodding at. He’s barely listening when Harry continues, too distracted by the unsettled feeling in his stomach to really hear him.

“What I mean is- Lou?” Harry asks, and Louis snaps out of it with a visible jump and, realizing what he’d just done, Louis tries to cover it up with a yawn and an exaggerated stretch of his arms towards the sky. Harry doesn’t miss a thing.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, sorry. Just tired. You’d think after all of this time you’d stop dragging me out so early. Anyway, what? Go on. I’m listening now.”

“If you say so, I guess.” Harry says, but the concern hasn’t quite left his voice or faded from his eyes. It sticks under Louis’ skin and makes him hot around the collar. “So uhm. Yeah. I mean like. You work. I work. We live together. So if you aren’t meeting these guys at any of those places, where _are_ you finding them?”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to date anyone where I work. They’re all either certifiably insane, married or straight, and since _that_ would be entirely pointless…” Louis trails off, sipping his tea and continuing without meeting Harry’s eyes. “and since you live with just me and your cat, I’ve had to get creative. I met this particular one at the shops once. He was buying avocados. Which you like. For some reason I’ve yet to understand.”

Harry snorts into his coffee, choking a little as he does and dribbling coffee down the front of his favorite jumper. “ _Fuck._ Louuuu.” He whines, dabbing at it with a napkin despite knowing that it’s definitely not coming out and he’s gonna have splotches all over him for the rest of the day.

“What? It’s not my fault you can’t drink like a normal person. Or that you have an affinity for avocados which defines all logic and reason.” Louis says, smirking into his own tea and dodging the rumpled napkin that Harry throws at his head with easy grace.

“Fuck off, how about that?” Harry says, but it lacks any real malice and Louis takes it as enough a sign as any to keep talking about his potential next date.

“Whatever, so I got his number last week when I saw him again, and believe me, it took ages for him to believe it wasn’t _me_ angling for a date, so let’s all just hope this one works out because it was a lot of effort for nothing otherwise.”

“How romantic of you, Lou.” Harry scoffs, reaching across the table and stealing Louis’ mug right out from under him. Harry usually prefers coffee instead of tea but decides not to be picky considering that he’s pretty sure _his_ drink now has snot in it.  
  
“Fucker, that’s mine.” Louis protests.

“Not anymore it isn’t.” Harry says, draining the rest in one massive gulp. “And while we’re on the subject, I know someone who’s been bugging me for your mobile number for _weeks._ I think I'll finally give it to him.”

“What?” Louis asks, shaking his head hard enough that it hurts. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh come _on,_ Louis. Why not? Remember last Christmas? I set your sister up and they’re still together!”

Louis rolls his eyes. He’s not exactly sure _why_ the idea bothers him so much, but it does. It curls up tight and lodges right below his Adams apple where he can’t seem to choke it down. His whole body is heavy with the weight in his stomach and the prickly feeling in his throat and for a second his whole world shrinks to the discomfort that seems to be trying to permeate every cell in his body.

“I...”He starts, and even his voice is off, as if the _thing_ in his throat is a physical being cutting off his ability to speak properly. He clears his throat and tries again. This time, when the words come out they’re a little louder than he intended and a few of the people at the counter look up in response. “Fizzy loves you! And she’s probably doing it to spite me.”

“O...kay now I know you’re insane.” Harry says huffing a sigh. “How about I just call her and tell her you said that?”

“You- Harry you wouldn’t _dare._ She’d kick my ass! _”_  
_  
_ “You’re right.” Harry says, finally cracking a smile that inexplicably vanishes just a little of the pain in Louis’ chest. “On both counts. I wouldn’t sell you out. But only because Fiz would kick your ass. And then she’d hand you over to Meg and let her have a go and honestly, I don’t think you’d make it through both of them.”

“Fuck you, I would.” Louis protests, then thinks it over. “Okay, I wouldn’t. But still. Fuck you.”

“So do we have a deal then? Next week I’ll go out with your avocado boy--”

“Sam.” Louis offers, though he isn’t quite sure why. Or why the salt shaker on the table has suddenly become so interesting that he twirls it round and round in circles between them.

“Sam, right.” Harry offers, gaze following the spinning shaker for a moment before stopping it with one big hand. “I’ll go out with Sam, and you’ll agree to go out with Daniel?”

“Are you going to give me a choice?” Louis asks, and the hope in his words is fleeting at best.

“Nope.” Harry says, popping the “p” dramatically.

“Fine. Whatever. But we go on separate nights.” Louis agrees with a sigh. When they gather their things and step out again into the warmth of the morning, Louis’ whole body once again feels like its three times heavier than normal, and he’s pretty sure his heart is just one big bruise, and he can’t figure out why.

\----

It’s the next Saturday night when Zayn in all of his infinite wisdom tells him point blank just how _stupid_ the whole thing is and honestly, as much as he hates it, Louis kind of has to agree. His date with Daniel had _not_ gone well, thank you very much. He’d been cute enough with his dirty blonde hair and his bright blue eyes, and sure, he probably meant well, but Louis had found him a little _too_ agreeable.

If he sounds insane for saying so, then so be it. He needs a man with a little banter in his bag of tricks. Louis can’t stand boring. He needs a challenge. He needs _sarcasm_ for god’s sake, and besides, Daniel didn’t swear. Not even once. Fucking bizarre, that.

_Stupid Harry._

Stupid Harry who’s on a date. That Louis set up. That he’s probably gonna hate. Again.

Zayn is absolutely right, _fuck_ this whole thing. The heavy weight of discomfort he’d been fighting with all week drops back into his stomach so suddenly and with such ferocity that he _thinks_ it might have made an actual thudding noise as it hit home.

“Are you okay, mate?” Liam asks, and yeah, of course he is, why would Liam ask that? Okay, so maybe he’s not but there’s no reason _Liam_ should know that.

“I’m _fine,_ Liam.” Louis says, pushing the words through gritted teeth, and the look on Zayn’s face 100% no question calls bullshit. “Why?”

“Lou, you literally just said ‘OOF’ out loud. Like legitimately. Just now. You said that. You were spacing out over your pizza and then you just…OOF’d.” Liam is gesturing wildly with both arms and wide eyes and Zayn looks between them with an expression that is equally fond and exasperated.

“What Liam is _trying_ to say is that unless you just got sucker punched by a ghost you didn’t tell us lives in your flat, you aren’t okay.” Zayn says, patiently guiding Liam to put his arms back down. “Babe, stop. Before you accidentally call a plane to land in their kitchen.”

Louis shoots them both a rather impressive glare. When he’d invited Liam and Zayn over to their flat he wasn’t looking to get the third fucking degree, thanks. He just wanted pizza. And maybe not to be alone. Why he’s so against being alone tonight, Louis can’t quite pin down, but he thinks it has something to do with Harry and this date and the suffocating sense of _wrongwrongwrong_ that he’s getting _really_ tired of carrying around.

Liam has the decency to look sheepish but Zayn meets his glare and doesn’t waver. The fucker doesn’t even blink. The cardboard box full of discarded pizza crusts on the counter before him is as good a distraction from Zayn as any, and Louis picks up a crust with a growl and bites it like it’d personally wronged him.

“I’m genuinely fine. Why does _everyone_ keep looking at me like I’m something breakable?” Louis asks, and okay, honestly it comes out just a little bit smaller than he wanted it to, but it did come out which is _something_ considering how his heart feels like it’s a bloody mess in his chest.

“Mate.” Zayn says, and oh god, he’s got that tone, the one that tells Louis he’s about to hear something he isn’t gonna like. “Have you ever, you know, considered that maybe you don’t like Harry going out with other people?”

“What?” Louis asks, the incredulity in his voice ringing clear as a bell even to his own ears. “Are you high?” What gets Louis, what _really_ gets him isn’t Zayn’s absurd question, but the way Liam is sitting beside him nodding like a maniac. He isn’t even saying anything, he’s just sitting there nodding as if he’s a puppet and someone is working his strings. Louis thinks maybe he could kill him. Just this once.

“Will you _stop that_ Liam? Fuck _me.”_ Louis roars, actually picking up another discarded crust and tossing it directly at Liam’s face. Hard.

“First of all.” Liam says, rubbing at the spot under his eye where the crust made impact “Ow. You bastard. Second of all, no, I will not fuck you no matter how nicely you ask. Especially not now. Third of all, Zayn has a point.”

“Zayn has a--” Louis starts, standing up and waving his arms around in a near identical fashion as Liam was earlier. “Zayn does _not_ have a point. I don’t _care_ that Harry is out on dates with other people. I _sent him_ on dates with other people.”

“Yeah, bad ones.” Liam intones, and Louis, he swears on his life he’s going to kill him.

“THEY’RE ONLY BAD BECAUSE HE’S TOO PICKY!” Louis huffs, wheeling around in a half blind panic to find his chair before he actually throws himself on the ground and starts pounding it with his fists. He’s dangerously close to a tantrum, one he knows he’s too old to be having. One that only _Harry_ can bring out in him. And he’s not even there to _actually_ cause it.

“He’s not too picky, mate.” Zayn says, and his whole attitude is honestly so calm that Louis’ outbursts seem even more ridiculous by comparison. “That last guy you sent him out with was grabbing his ass before he even got out of the car at the restaurant.”

“I….what?” Louis asks, suddenly deflated. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“Of course he didn’t. You’re his best friend and you sent him out. He didn’t want you to be upset.”

“He said the guy was handsy but I---”Louis starts, but the vibration of his phone in his back pocket makes him jump nearly out of his skin. It’s a text. And then two. And then three. And then four. Four texts in a row, all from Harry.

_Fuck you._  
_And fuck this date._  
_I’m going to get you for this.  
_ _And you’re buying me wine._

Louis unlocks his phone and quickly types a response.  
  
**_Wine? Fuck, it must be bad._ **  
  
The three dots that signify Harry’s typing a response appear immediately and, despite the fact that Louis is being yelled at, something physically loosens in his chest, he’s sure of it.

_You have no idea, Tomlinson. Big. Trouble._

Louis laughs out loud responding quickly and without a thought.

**_Promise? ;)_ **

_Shut up. I’ll see you at home._  
_Maybe._  
_If I ever get out of here._  
_If I’m not back in an hour send help._ _  
_ x.

Louis types a final **_noted. x._ **and puts his phone back in his pocket. When he looks up he’s met with both Liam and Zayn’s owlish gaze and Louis rolls his eyes in response. Stupid friends. What good are they anyway?

“And who might that have been?” Liam asks, the tone in his voice all but dripping with an amused sort of self righteousness that makes Louis want to punch him right in the face.

“Harry.” Louis answers, half defensive and half suspicious. “But you seem to already have gathered that.”

“We did.” Zayn confirms with half a nod of his head. “You ever wonder how we knew that?”

“Because it’s always Harry? You two are here, who the fuck else would it have been?” Louis says, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. They can be stubbornly obtuse all they want, what the fuck does he care, the weight in his chest is gone again and he feels like maybe for just a second he can catch his breath.

“It’s because no one else ever makes you act like that. You completely forgot we were even in the room.” Liam offers, standing to stretch his legs and, as an afterthought wrapping his arms around Zayn from behind. “Think about it.”

“Think about _what_ exactly, Liam, you two are insane.” Louis says, gathering up the pizza box and their plastic glasses and heading toward the bin.

“Do you feel better now, Lou?” Zayn asks, leaning further into Liam’s chest with a contented sigh. “Fucking _think_ about it.”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with Harry?” Louis asks, binning the rubbish and checking his watch. It’s only been five minutes since Harry’s last text and Louis has to hold his breath to avoid sighing impatiently.

“Fucking hell.” Zayn says, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “You’re in love with him you idiot. You feel better because _another_ date didn’t work out. You get to keep him.”

That’s all it takes, really, someone just saying the words. The realization comes not with a bang, but with silence. It’s more like the soft clicking of pins inside a lock as someone finally turns the right the key. Suddenly it all just fits. Falls into place. Stills.

Zayn is right and Louis can’t deny it. He _is_ happier now. Because Harry’s coming home. To him. And his cat. _Where he belongs._

\----

Harry comes home at half ten, a whole fifteen minutes before the hour is up and finds himself met with three pairs of staring eyes.

“Uh. Hi.” He says, dropping his keys on the table by the door and kicking off his shoes. “I wondered why the door was unlocked. Lou always leaves it locked when it’s just him.”

“Fuck you, I _told you_ the upstairs neighbor is a scary old woman and I don’t trust her.” Louis huffs. He’s surprised at how normal he sounds, how his voice carries around the flat exactly how it always has despite the fact that his heart is beating double time in his chest at just the _sight_ of Harry. It’s like the whole fucking world has changed, yet somehow, stubbornly remains the same.

“You.” Harry says, crossing the room in two huge strides and wrapping Louis in a hug. “You’re in so much trouble.”

“Uh…” Liam says, and if Louis could remember how to breathe he’d laugh at the look on his face. It’s somewhere between confusion and something else, possibly embarrassment, and it distracts Louis for just long enough that he relaxes into Harry’s embrace.

“If he’s in trouble why the hell are you _hugging_ him?”

“Because I’m going to murder him next.” Harry says, lips right up against Louis’ pulse point so that the vibration from his words all at once tickles and makes Louis shiver right to the tips of his toes. “So you two might want to leave before you’re forced to be witnesses.”

“Welp.” Liam says, and Zayn actually snorts, a short little indignant sound that lands somewhere between disbelief and disinterest and earns an eye roll from Louis. Nevertheless, he grabs his jacket and Liam’s hand and starts dragging him toward the door.

“Time to go now. Lou, good luck with dying I guess. Harry, I’m not visiting you in prison.”

“Yeah, make good choices, Harry.” Liam calls over his shoulder as Zayn finally drags him out of the flat. “Bye!”

“He’s an idiot.” Louis says, a statement of fact. “Why are we friends with him again?”

“Because he’s cute.” Harry says, his face stern. “Much like you. You’re cute. But you’re trouble. That date? Was the worst.”

“What was wrong with Avocado boy?” Louis asks, trying to act nonchalant. For the first time he really lets himself feel the intensity of the _relief_ that comes with knowing it’s another bad date. That Harry well and truly _is_ staying. For now at least. Until he finds someone he _does_ like and he leaves Louis in the dust. His heart throbs and his stomach lurches at the thought and, carefully but intentionally, he untangles himself from the circle of Harry’s arms and takes a seat on the couch with both feet tucked beneath him.

“Hey, are you okay?” Harry says, and there it is again, the look that ties Louis’ stomach up in knots every time he sees it. The one he can never decipher. “I was gonna yell at you, but you look like you’ve been yelling at _yourself_ enough for both of us.”

“I’m fine.” Louis says, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Harry sits himself down at his side, twisting and pulling and sometimes tickling until Louis is tucked right up tight against his ribs where he can’t get away. Not that Louis would be anywhere else right now. Never in a million years.

“Okay one, no, you’re not. I’ve known you too long to buy your bullshit, remember? And two, you’re gonna tell me or you’re not leaving this couch. You can rot here, we’ll die together. Just like this. So do me a favor and don’t be a stubborn pain in my ass.” As if to show his seriousness, Harry heaves a sigh and pulls the blanket they keep folded over the back of the couch down and over one shoulder.

“Bit tired if I’m honest. Think I’ll just sleep riiiiiiiiight.” Harry says, drawing out the words. He gives a wiggle and a tug then he’s lying on his back and Louis falls with him, tucked between the back of the couch and Harry’s side. “Here. That is, if you’re not gonna tell me what’s actually bothering you.”  
  
“I’m _fine,_ Haz. I don’t know why you have to be such a dramatic twat.” Louis says, punching at Harry’s ribs halfheartedly. “But whatever, I could use a nap and you make a good pillow, so keep it up.”

“Lou.”

“Harry.”

“Lou.”

“ _What?”_ Louis asks, annoyed. He struggles against Harry’s grip in earnest. For about a twenty seconds. It’s no good and he knows it. Harry has him trapped, and, judging by the slow easy smile that creeps over Harry’s face he knows it.

“I told you. You talk or you stay here. Which is going to become an unfortunate situation pretty soon. I drank way too much wine and I need to _pee.”_  
  
_“_ Oh no you don’t. _”_ Louis yelps, trying to scramble away again. “I’m still fucking scared from that Halloween three years ago, Harold, no.”

“Okay, first of all, Louis.” Harry says, a bit indignantly “That was an _entirely_ different situation. I was wasted for one. And for two, puking in your lap _one time_ does not mean I’d pee on you. I’m not a dog. Or a baby. I can control my bladder.”

“That’s debatable, and I don’t wanna test your theory if you don’t mind.” Louis says, expression sour.

“Then talk.” Harry says, and he looks perfectly relaxed lying there with his eyes closed, so relaxed in fact that Louis would think he was actually sleeping if Harry wasn’t the most determined person he’s ever met. He knows damn good and well that Harry isn’t sleeping and he _isn’t_ gonna let it lie. They’ll sit right there on that couch until morning if he doesn’t start talking. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again. Louis rolls his eyes. In love with him or not, he’s pretty sure he could choke the fool.

“Fuck you. God.” Louis huffs, and Harry’s perfectly relaxed face splits into a wide grin.  He knows he’s winning. The fucker.

“’m not God, Lou.” Harry says, and Louis can _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

“I. Know. That.” Louis says, punctuating every word with a punch to Harry’s ribs. “You. Stupid. Tit. _Fine._ I’ll talk. It’s that or be held hostage and I’m not having it.”

“Go on then.” Harry says, smirk dying almost instantly on his face. He actually sits up and pulls Louis up with him, always careful to keep him tucked in safe against his side to prevent escape, but making himself more open and attentive all the same. Louis’ stomach flutters and his whole body goes warm at the gesture.

“I mean. Well. I fucked it again, didn’t I?” Louis says, barely meeting Harry’s eyes as his mind races ahead of him. There’s a time and place for the whole truth, but Louis knows this isn’t it. Lucky for him, he’s always been a quick thinker and the longer he waffles on the more a plan begins to sprout in the farthest corner of his mind. “Like I sent you on _another_ date that went tits up and you’re gonna hate me for it eventually.”

“Lou. Look at me, yeah?” Harry says, poking at his cheek with one long finger. Louis _knows_ Harry, knows it’s coming from the start, and has schooled his features into what he hopes is a rather appropriate look of disappointment.  “I will never hate you. You could send me on a date with Donald Trump, and while I would be very, very angry—and have a _whole lot_ of questions, I wouldn’t hate you.”

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, letting just a little bit of real insecurity bleed into his words. Just a little. A tiny bit. The perfect amount. It has exactly the effect he knows it will and Louis has to bite his cheek to keep from pumping his fist into the air in victory.

“I’m _positive.”_

_“Well then._ Now that’s settled, tell me. _”_ Louis says, rolling his eyes with dramatic little huff. “Have you ever considered that _maybe_ you’re just too picky?”

“Have _you_ ever considered the fact that maybe you just really suck at this?” Harry challenges, one eyebrow raised.

“Nope. Not at all.” Louis says without skipping a beat, feels his heart thud thud thudding against the fabric of his shirt as he pushes himself to say the next few words. “I really think it’s just you. I have _one more_ person in mind, Haz, give me one more go.”

“No. Absolutely not. No more, Louis Tomlinson. I’ve had disaster enough, thanks. Avocado guy was the end of it. He requested a _straw_ for his _soup,_ Lou. An actual _fucking_ straw.”

Well that takes Louis off guard, all right, and for a second he sits there just looking at Harry blankly.

“I…do not have words.”

“For the first time in your life.” Harry quips, with a spectacular roll of his eyes.

“Shut it you.” Louis resists the urge to flip him off. But only barely. “Seriously. I’m serious. Just one more time. And if this one fails….” He pauses feeling his heart literally give a little stutter step at the thought. “I’ll never set you up again. I promise.”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “How do I always get myself into these situations with you?”

“Because you love me?” Louis asks, voice maybe just a little this side of too hopeful.

“I must.” Harry says, sighing, wavering, and Louis tucks his chin into his chest to hide his smile in the collar of his shirt. “Fine. _One more._ But that’s it. I _mean it.”_

“This one’s gonna work, Haz.” Louis says, and says it with such conviction that Harry can’t help but crack a smile despite resolving to be stern. “I feel it.” 

\----

Louis has had a week to refine his little plan, but when it comes down to it, to the day and time and place the plan goes out the fucking window.  If he’s honest, really, completely honest, it’s all he can do to not puke on his own shoes. His nerves are shot and his hands are shaking and for at least the hundredth time he wonders if running would be in his best interest.  

He checks his watch just to have something to do. It’s 6:54. _Good._ He has a few minutes. Harry is kind of _known_ for being on the dot on time for everything, and honest to _God_ if he doesn’t calm the fuck down, he’s gonna pass out. Logically, Louis knows that just plopping right down on the stoop outside the restaurant isn’t the best idea he’s ever had, but it’s not like he can go back inside and muck up the decorations so logic and the seat of his jeans be damned.  

He’d planned everything so carefully. He rented out the entire fucking restaurant for Christ’s sake. On a Friday night, no less. If Harry hates his guts afterward he’s gonna be down two whole weeks pay, and, even more worryingly, his best friend.

No, he can’t, _won’t_ think about that. Harry had said. Harry had promised. He wouldn’t hate him, no matter what. Louis likes to think he’s a damn sight better than Donald Trump, and it’s that knowledge he clings to as he counts to ten in his head. There’s rose petals on the table and champagne chilling in the back. And cheesecake. Harry _loves_ cheesecake. It’s okay. It’s going to be _fine._

_Breathe._

He’s just stood up again, opting to trade sitting for pacing when Harry rounds the corner up the street. He’s carrying a bouquet of flowers, and he’s right on time.

Louis’ heart is thrumming hummingbird fast in his chest, he can feel it even in the tips of his fingers as Harry draws nearer. When Harry comes to an easy stop in front of him and _smiles_ Louis knows, he _knows_ it’s all gonna be okay.

“Hi.” Harry offers, and even in the thickening twilight Louis can see the prettiest blush tinting his cheeks. The streetlights bounce in and out of Harry’s hair and dance in his eyes and for a second Louis forgets how to breathe.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“So do you always bring flowers on your dates?” Louis asks, half genuinely curious and half just scrambling for purchase, for something to say so he doesn’t float away on the tide of new feelings and old feelings and just _love_ rising fast in his chest.

“Not always.” Harry offers, shaking his head. The look in his eyes is something like hope and something like victory and just a tiny bit smug, and Louis can’t make heads nor tails of it. “Just this once, I think. For now. Read the card, Lou.”

“Read the---what?” Louis asks, confused. What the fuck is Harry on about?

“There’s a card in the flowers Lou. The one they give you at the shops to, oh never mind. Just read it would you? I worked hard on it.” Harry says, and seeing that the look of confusion in Louis’ eyes hasn’t dimmed, just rolls his and plucks the tiny card from the roses himself.

“Jesus, you’re gonna give me a paper cut with that thing, okay—fuck.” Louis says with a scowl as Harry continues to shove the card at him with what has now become a full blown fit of impatience. His scowl only deepens as he takes in the few lines of Harry’s elegant handwriting at last.

_Louis,_  
_Stop setting me up now._  
_Yours,  
_ _H_

“You _knew?”_ Louis asks, incredulous. “How the fuck did you _know?”_ The urge to stomp his foot and flip Harry off is almost too much for Louis to bear and he grits his teeth to avoid doing either.

“I--” Harry says, sidling in close, tugging at Louis’ belt loops until he’s flush against Harry from knee to nose. “Know _you._ And I love _you._ Did I not tell you that weeks ago? _”_

“Yes but--” Oh. _Oh._ That look, that stupid maddening fucking _look._ Louis gets it now. “Fuck.”

“Mmmm, maybe later,” Harry says, working his hand into the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck. “Right now, I’m gonna kiss you, and then--” He’s whispering right up against Louis’s skin now, their lips just brushing with every word, and Louis literally shivers in his arms. “you’re gonna buy me dinner.”  

“Not b--” Louis’ half hearted protests die on his tongue as Harry closes the infinitesimal gap and kisses him proper. His heart and his head explode with it, every nerve ending in his body popping off like fireworks in the night.

_Yeah, fuck it,_ Louis thinks. He’s the best matchmaker _ever._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, or a comment, even a little one would make my entire day. You can follow me on tumblr [here.](https://hazzaskilt.tumblr.com)
> 
> You can reblog the fic post [here!](http://hazzaskilt.tumblr.com/post/181811006832/theres-nothing-i-can-do-i-only-wanna-be-with)


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